


Death of Me

by charn14



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholics Anonymous, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charn14/pseuds/charn14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire never asked when he would die, but how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise in advance. This is my first Les Mis fic. I know very little about AA, and Enjolras might possibly be OOC. The tags and ratings will change over time. Oh, and unbeta'd, so if there are any grammatical errors, they're mine.

Grantaire never asked when he would die, but how. Since he was a child, he knew he would die at a young age - probably in his twenties - but he always questioned how he would go out. At age nine, after a terrifying incident when playing football, he decided he would die after getting hit by a car. When he was thirteen, he thought he would die by a serial killer. This came about after watching a horror movie he has long forgotten the title of. When he came out at age seventeen, his life basically became hell; his parents threw him out after he told them he was gay, saying they would not have a "tainted child". He soon turned to the bottle, and from then on, he was convinced that he would die by the toxic drink (or possibly because of a hate crime, but probably the former). He held on to this belief for many years. That was until he was twenty-six, when he met the golden haired man, Enjolras.

It began when his sister (or as Grantaire labeled her, his life line) confronted him about his drinking habits. She begged him to go to an AA meeting, screaming at him that he had a problem. ("I can't remember the last time you were sober. Just go once, for me?") So, Grantaire went reluctantly, pocketing his flask for afterwards. 

Grantaire arrived at the small church where the meeting was being held well after the meeting had started. (He had spent the time leading up to the meeting getting wasted with his friends at a bar.) He stumbled down the steps to where the meeting was being held. He looked up to see a group of people sitting in a circle, with a blonde haired man in the center. Grantaire would come to know him as Enjolras, but at the moment, Grantaire decided to nickname him Apollo.

Apollo cleared his throat at Grantaire's entrance. "Hello, sir. Are you here for the meeting?" His entire voice oozed authority, and Grantaire hated authority. In defiance, Grantaire huffed and crossed his arms. He put his back against a wall and crossed his legs.

"All depends; this AA?" He kept his eyes on Apollo, and, in turn, he kept his eyes on Grantaire. He nodded shortly, his jaw locked. "Good. Promised my sister I would come to a meeting. She thinks I'm a drunk." Grantaire chuckled humourlessly, and his speech was slurred. Apollo gave him a look Grantaire couldn't decipher. Was it a look of disdain, or, surprisingly, a look of pity?

"Come," he said, gesturing to a chair two seats away from him, "sit down and introduce yourself." Grantaire peeled himself off the wall and made way to the chair. He stumbled twice on the way; once when he tripped over himself, another when his foot was caught on a woman's bag. He flopped into his own chair, causing it to move back. The screech of the metal legs on the cement was agonizing to his ears.

He turned his attention back to Apollo. Despite his drunken haze, Grantaire noticed the man was still staring at him. His eyes burned with an emotion Grantaire couldn't place, either hatred or lust. Grantaire knew it was the former, but preferred it to be the latter.

"Now, tell us your name, sir." It was more of an order than a request. Grantaire huffed.

"Why do you do that, anyway?"

"Do what?"

"Ask people to introduce themselves."

"Because it-"

"Lemmie finish, Blondie." Grantaire snapped. Apollo glared at him. "This is Alcoholics Anonymous, therefore I shouldn't have to give my name."

"Fair point, but part of AA is that we want to get to know you so we can support you. Here, I'll demonstrate." Apollo addressed the group: "Hello, I am Enjolras, and I'm an alcoholic. There, simple as that. You try."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. He sank into his chair and mumbled, "Hey, I'm Grantaire, and I am not an alcoholic."

A monotone symphony of "Hi, Grantaire," followed his introduction, except for a small chuckle that came from Apollo - or Enjolras as he called himself. Grantaire glared at him. "What?"

"It's perfectly OK for you to admit you're an alcoholic. No one will judge you here."

"Oi, listen here, 'pollo. I already said I'm here for one meeting. I'm not an alcoholic!" His slurred speech was now more pronounced. Apollo shook his head.

"Never mind. Let's just continue with the meeting. Adam, I think you wanted to share your story?" A dark haired man sitting across the circle from Grantaire stood up. He seemed frightfully nervous. 

"I-yes, Hi, I'm Adam, and I'm Adam, and I'm an alcoholic." Everyone responded with a "Hi, Adam." Adam smiled meekly. 

After that, Grantaire blocked out the man's story. If one were to ask Grantaire to recount the speech, he would respond with something like; "I dunno. I think he's been drinking for twenty years because his wife cut it off with him or something? Yeah, something like that." 

Maybe he passed out, maybe meetings just go by quickly, but the next thing Grantaire knew, Enjolras was calling for a final prayer before they ended the meeting. People on either side reached for Grantaire's hands. He flinched away at first, but eventually gripped their hands. The woman on Grantaire's left smiled shyly at him.

Everyone bowed their heads, minus Grantaire, who looked around the group, feeling awkward and out of place. Suddenly, Enjolras began to speak.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen." An echo of "amen"s followed the prayer went through the group. Soon people began to gather their things and leave, other's staying behind to talk. Grantaire jumped from his seat and made his way to the staircase when a voice from behind stopped him.

"Grantaire, was it?" Grantaire turned to see Enjolras sauntering towards him, hands in this pockets.

"Yeah, and? Sorry to cut this short, buddy, but I have to get home if you don't mind." Grantaire tried to leave, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. The touched seared his skin. Enjolras turned him back around. 

"My name's Enjolras. I and my friend, Courfeyrac, run the meetings here. I would like to you come to our meeting tomorrow." 

"Rather not. This entire place is a downer."

"I insist. Here," Enjolras handed Grantaire two pamphlets. "I would like you to read them. And here's my card, if you ever wish to talk." He handed him a tiny slip of paper, probably with Enjolras' number on it.

"I can barely hold in my excitement." Grantaire's voice was deadpan. He finally made his way up the stairs when he heard Enjolras call to him one last time. 

"Oh, and please don't come to the meetings drunk. It's bad for the other members. It might make them relapse."

Oh, yes. Enjolras will be the death of Grantaire.

**Author's Note:**

> I realise there are a lot of () in the first chapter. I apologise for that as well. I'll work on it.
> 
> And I haven't decided if Enjolras is actually an alcoholic or not. Well, actually I have decided, but you have to wait and see which one.


End file.
